STEP ONE OF LINUS'S PLAN: go grocery shopping at Sobeys. 

His tattered backpack needed a restock of food and medical supplies. The monsters seemed to have calmed down between Saskatoon and this new small town of Humboldt, but he'd twisted his ankle that afternoon in a quick fight with a harpy. 

What a great way to start a Saturday. As if trekking across half of Canada wasn't bad enough by itself. He'd left his father and Olympia, Washington far behind. Now he had the endless stretches of sparse open fields and small towns dedicated to hockey that filled Saskatchewan.

Linus walked between produce stations. Bananas, strawberries, and shiny red apples sat just waiting for some hungry shopper to scoop them up. He passed them. He passed the bell peppers too, the avocados labeled "two for three" Canadian dollars, and the prepackaged baby carrots.

But Linus didn't want apples or bananas and he certainly didn't want avocados or carrots. If he wanted apples he could just walk up to a tree and grow one. One of the only benefits of being the son of Proserpina. Fruits came from flowers and his dad had always said his mother loved flowers.

Linus didn't love flowers. But he did love pomegranates. With a small smile, he reached into the refrigerated shelf that held Pom's pre packaged pomegranate arils. All of the juicy greatness, none of the hassle. He put three in his basket.

Everyone should try them. Pomegranates really were amazing. His dad didn't like them. Said they were too messy.

Well good thing his dad wasn't here.

A loud crash sounded from his right. Linus startled back, knocking a few small butter tubs off the shelf. Heart racing, he put his left hand on the hilt of his golden sword. Gladius. Dad called it a Gladius. 

What had come to kill him this time? A Harpy? A Ventus? Some giant spider that no one ever seemed to recognize as anything other than a massive puppy dog?

None of the above. An old woman had accidentally hit a display with her shopping cart. Linus rolled his eyes and turned away as she started picking up the fallen soda cans. He didn't have time for this.

Sharp, throbbing pain shot up his leg from his sprained ankle as he looked for the water bottles. He could make fruit from scratch but water? Not unless he wanted to drink the rain. 

Linus could hear the downpour from inside the store. He'd passed a half dozen people marveling at the rare April torrential thunderstorm that had gathered over their small Saskatchewan town. Linus just rolled eyes.

Rain made all his plans more complicated. After months walking from Washington through Canada, hounded by monsters that apparently decided this year that death just meant nothing, he really wanted peace and quiet. He wanted a calm night in a motel with his pomegranate arils and something on tv. No drinking rain water. No hiding in ditches.

Was a decent mattress and a warm shower too much to ask? Linus placed a few bottles of water into his basket and moved through the store. Maybe he'd splurge today. Get some dessert…maybe a brownie? Some cake?

The bakery section had a tremendous number of options for such a small town. Someone must've loved cake decorating because Linus couldn't even count the number of white frosting, chocolate frosting, even blue frosting sheet cakes with balloons and flowers. "Happy birthday!" and "Congratulations!" we're scrawled in reds and greens and pinks.

Linus wondered if he could get someone to customize the red Congratulations cake. Maybe something like "Congratulations! The ogre didn't kill you yesterday!" For being slightly more than half god, life sure did have it out for him.

Go to the Wolf House, Dad said. It'll be great, Dad said. Well Linus didn't want to hang out with some cranky canine just to see if he was worthy. Whatever that meant. He just wanted to be left alone.

He pocketed a brownie. Looking down into his shopping basket, he counted up the items. Either he had to eat it tonight or it had to fit in his backpack. Pomegrante arils, four water bottles, a box of fruit snacks, one brownie, a small baguette…

First Aid Kit. That's what he'd come in for, really. The pomegranates had distracted him with their powers of red and pink deliciousness. Stupid fruit.

He found the pharmacy aisle at the far end of the supermarket. A mother and young daughter, face red and pouty, stood examining the medicines. Linus tried to ignore them. He needed simpler things: Band-Aids, Neosporin, gauze wrap, and if he got lucky, an ankle brace.

Why did a pharmacy need so many band-aid options? Blocking out the fussy three year old, he stood in front of the first aid care selection at a loss. He just needed basic Band-Aids. Not Disney Princess, not Transformers. Linus grabbed a box containing all different sized plain, tan Band-Aids and dropped them in the basket. He turned to leave. But then he paused.

Maybe he'd get one box of Spider-Man Band-Aids. Not like anyone would be out in the Canadian Wilderness to judge him on it. Not unless he ran into a particularly intelligent brown bear or moose. Or another ogre with a hatred for spandex-wearing superheroes. Stranger things had happened. Then again, it seemed like everything already had a memo to end his life.

Linus moved to the cashiers. Only two lanes were open, but so were the self checkouts. He didn't even try to stand in line. Self checkout killed two birds with one stone: no one questioned him on his grocery choices and Visa credit card, and he didn't have to talk to people.

Why his dad hadn't yet canceled the credit card he'd stolen before running away, Linus didn't know. Maybe some weird matter of honor that a Legacy of Apollo had to uphold. He rolled his eyes just thinking about it. As the machine screamed at him to remove the card, he just scoffed. He may have trained at this Camp Jupiter, but his dad was hardly Roman. Apollo has been his great grandfather.

He didn't get it. Linus had to deal with being an actual demigod. He had to deal with random spring downpours. He had to deal with flowers popping up at the least opportune moments. He had to deal with dumb nightmares about powerful weapons that apparently he was meant to find.

He had to deal with dragging himself through National Parks and stretches of highways in Canada of all places, trying to find a pretty bow. Linus didn't really know why he'd felt so compelled. But it got him away from his dad. It got him away from going to the Wolf House. And Canada wasn't all that bad. They liked hockey here. Even in this Sobeys supermarket they proudly honored the local team. Sixteen hockey sticks leaned against the wall in a window display.

The rain didn't stop when he reached the sliding automatic doors. Why would it? Linus rolled his eyes but didn't hesitate to step into it. He wanted to get back to his motel before Hockey Night in Canada started.

It should've been cold, walking through Humboldt, Saskatchewan at the end of April with slightly torn jeans and nothing but an athletic tee and coat overtop. But the rain felt warm, almost soothing on his face. Linus briefly wondered at the way it made the scrapes on his cheeks burn. It didn't hurt. It felt more like some sort of medicinal balm. 

Probably had his deity of a mother to thank for that. The lame Proserpina, daughter of the lame goddess Ceres, tucked away in the Underworld, presumably, all year round. Otherwise, presumably, she'd have bothered to contact her son.

Linus forced himself to smile and look a little bit taller, a little less lanky, as he approached the motel on the edge of town. He'd managed to convince a tired and overworked front desk man that he wasn't Linus Wren, fifteen and a half year old Washington, USA native but in fact Logan Pearson, eighteen year old Vancouver boy. He didn't know if his dad had bothered to alert authorities to his disappearance. But he didn't need anyone looking into his trek.

Fortunately, the guy at the desk still didn't care enough to stop him and ask questions.

Linus took the stairs up to the second floor. The rooms here were nicer than he'd expected, fairly modern though the colors screamed 1980s. To his annoyance, he had a small balcony. Just in case he wanted to experience the rain for even longer than the twenty minutes walk across town.

He didn't.

It didn't take long to shower. He had to clean his clothes in there too, using the bar of soap and warm water to get stains out best he could. With those drying, he slipped into his back up shirt and boxers, leapt sideways onto the bed, and downed two Advil to help his pain.

He laid there for a while, listening to the rain. The off-white popcorn ceiling hardly kept his interest out of fascination. More out of sheer exhaustion. But his stomach growled and the clock ticked on.

As Linus pulled himself back up and sat cross legged in front of the TV, he grabbed his cup of prepackaged pomegranate arils. All he wanted was one night without a catastrophe. He wanted to laugh at whatever insane suit Don Cherry had picked for that evening's Coach's Corner. Just one night with Hockey Night in Canada, some pomegranate seeds, and his Spider-Man Band-Aids. No monsters, no blood, and if he got lucky, no weird crow goddesses trying to disrupt his sleep.